


Choices

by Haemanthus



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haemanthus/pseuds/Haemanthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-write of the ending, starting from before they visit the post office the first time. In which Thomas takes her conversation about choices to heart and makes his choice sooner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sharing a bed with his wife without breaking his promise to his sister was the hardest thing Sir Thomas Sharpe had ever done not least because he had to do it not once, but over and over again. Every night was an exercise in frustration he had never thought to have to endure. 

He waited until Edith was asleep every night before coming to bed. He knew if she initiated anything he wouldn’t be able to resist; not in the privacy of their room, the only place Lucille didn’t have a key to enter. There was nothing stopping him, except his damned loyalty to Lucille. He knew if he let himself have the relationship he wanted with Edith, Lucille would know, and it would be Edith who suffered for it.

And so, each night he came to bed after Edith had fallen asleep, and kept himself as close to the edge of his side of the bed as possible. He would hold himself very still, willing himself not to move the slightest bit closer to her.

Yet every morning he woke wrapped tightly around her. His front pressed to her back, his face buried in her masses of yellow hair, his arm holding her close. And another part of his anatomy begging for attention. It was the happiest part of his day, when he would allow himself a few moments to enjoy the sensation of waking with the person he loved in his arms, like any other normal couple. But he allowed himself only the shortest of moments before gently slipping away before she awoke, taking himself off to his workshop or elsewhere before she woke, before he broke his promises and put Edith in even more danger.

This morning was different. Thomas woke and realized he was still on his side of the bed, on his back as he had been when he had fallen asleep. The only difference was that Edith was now sprawled across his chest, with her arm wrapped around his waist. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes and relaxing once more, enjoying her slight weight against him. After a few minutes though, he came to the sudden realization that there was no way for him to move without waking her. He had a brief moment of panic, frantically trying to think of a way to slip out from under her and leave the room before it got too late and Lucille began to question where he was. He had just made up his mind to try to shift Edith back to her side of the bed when she stirred. 

She woke slowly, coming to the realization of where she was. She tilted her head up to look at him, “Good morning,” she said slowly, voice still sleepy, “Have I been holding you captive?”

He smiled at her, “I didn’t mind,” he replied, dropping a kiss on to the top of her head. She laughed slightly and propped herself up on one elbow. They both stared at each other for a long moment, before she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. Thomas felt his restraint break and he suddenly found himself kissing her as hungrily as he had a few days before in his workshop. There was nothing stopping him this time; the door was locked. Lucille wouldn’t walk in; she wouldn’t know. 

Edith made a noise in the back of her throat; half a moan, that drove him on even further. He pushed her back against the mattress, coming over top of her, barely breaking the kiss. He was damnably distracted by her hands; they seemed to be everywhere, in his hair, on his chest, wrapping around his hips. He busied his own hands with trying to get her nightdress off; he didn’t understand why there were so many tiny buttons running down the front of it. He managed to get it undone partially down her chest and was busily kissing his way down her throat when there was a knock at the door. 

He froze. Edith attempted to pull him back towards her, but the moment had been broken. He slowly lowered himself down to the mattress beside her, although keeping his arm over her. “Be very still, very quiet,” he whispered, his face pressed close to her ear. “Lucille will think we’re still sleeping; she’ll leave.” 

Edith felt as if she was practically holding her breath. She was aroused, and confused, and maybe a little frightened. She didn’t like the combination. She had been having the most normal morning since their wedding, and she wasn’t sure why his sister was a problem to their continuing it. Surely Lucille was aware enough to not disturb a marriage bed? 

Thomas could feel the tension building in Edith, and pressed a kiss against her ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

There was another knock on the door, and when they still didn’t reply, Lucille said “I’ve made you tea for breakfast. I’ll just leave it outside the door for when you want it.” 

Thomas and Edith listened as Lucille’s footsteps faded away. Edith sat up almost immediately, “What was that about?” she demanded. 

“Lucille likes to listen at doors,” Thomas answered, “and worse than that, sometimes she’s not content to just listen. We’re never really alone in this house.” 

He got out of bed and began getting dressed while Edith stared at him with an incredulous look from her place under the covers. He finished dressing and walked over to kiss Edith on the forehead, “I’m sorry darling. I’ll have a word with Lucille. Will you come see me in my workshop later?”

Edith sighed and acquiesced, “Of course, if you want me to.” 

“I always want you,” he said, and then crossed the room, unlocked the door, and disappeared. 

Edith stayed in bed a few minutes longer, contemplating the bizarre morning she had had. Finally she got up and went to get the tea that was still resting on the table just outside the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter takes place before Edith has her freak-out over seeing the ghost and needing to leave. Hopefully I will have the next chapter up within a few days. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Edith set the tea tray down on the table beside the fireplace, gently touching the side of the teapot to see if the tea was still warm. It seemed to be lukewarm at best, so she ignored it. She would have rather liked a steaming cup of tea right now – or even better, coffee. Of course she had drunk tea in America as well as coffee, but she liked having the choice. Here it seemed as if she didn’t even get a choice in the type of tea she drank, let alone whether she even wanted it to begin with. It was very cold now thought, so she would have happily drunk anything so long as it was hot. 

She settled for pulling her wrap even tighter. She loved this robe; from the moment she saw it in the shop, she had thought it was meant for her. It was a beautiful design, and she thought the color was perfect, although now she wished she had made her decision based more on warmth and less on what her new husband would think of it. She wished her husband would think of it – and her – a bit more. This morning had seemed to be a step in the right direction, but only left her feeling more confused. Her husband didn’t seem to be suffering from a lack of affection for her, and she couldn’t help but feel the problems would all be resolved if she could just get him away from his sister long enough to make the initial step towards truly being man and wife. 

She wasn’t sure what could be done about it immediately, but she knew hiding in their bedroom wouldn’t solve the problem. Thomas certainly wouldn’t come back to this room until evening. She would have to go to him; maybe they would be able to talk. She crossed over into her dressing room, and contemplated what to wear for the day. Something simple, she thought; she didn’t want to have to go in search of Lucille to help with the buttons. Edith found herself avoiding Lucille more than she would have liked. When she married Thomas, she had thought in Lucille she would be gaining a sister, a friend, and a confidante all in one. As an only child, she liked the idea of having a sister; she found the reality to be a bit less than she had imagined. Lucille seemed jealous and controlling; Edith could only assume she was used to being in charge of her brother’s household for so many years and was reluctant to relinquish that right to someone else. 

Edith finished her morning routine. How she missed having a maid! She resisted the urge to go straight to Thomas’ workshop, and thought rather that she would take a walk through the grounds first, to give herself time to process her unusual morning, and go up when her head was clearer. 

* * *

Thomas had started up the steps towards his workshop, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see Lucille standing a few steps below, looking angrier than he had seen her in a long time. 

“Yes, Lucille?” he asked with a sigh. He was tired; he felt like a failure. No matter what he did, he seemed to be disappointing Lucille or Edith, sometimes both of them at the same time. Edith would never admit to being disappointed; she was his eternal optimist, she believed in him. He wanted to be worthy of that belief, and yet he knew he wasn’t. He was bad, and Lucille was the only one who knew it. It was why she was always disappointed in him. She knew the truth, and wouldn’t let him forget it. 

Lucille was so angry she didn’t deign to respond, simply choosing to push past him on her way to her room on the other side of the attic. He followed her, as he knew he was expected to do. 

As soon as he stepped into her room, he felt the full force of her wrath hit against him. “What were you doing with that little wanton this morning?” she screamed at him. “Did you forget who you are? Did you forget me?”

She looked so angry, but at the same time so broken. Thomas searched for the right words to calm her, “I could never forget you,” he said, barely more than a whisper, “You know I would be lost without you.” He stepped towards her, but she turned her back to him. 

“Did she drink the tea?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, most likely yes,” he replied, “I left as quickly as I could without making her suspect anything.” He hated himself. He wished Lucille could be happy that he loved Edith. He wished he could be honest with them both; he wished Lucille could be happy too. 

“Get out,” Lucille hissed between her teeth. He left, hearing something slam against the door as soon as he shut it. He knew her moods; Lucille would be in there all day until she had vented her rage. It terrified him; he knew Lucille would never harm him, but she would hurt Edith. He had to get his machine working. As soon as he got it working, there would be no need for more money. They would be able to generate their own income, and fix the house, and Lucille would be happy. He wouldn’t need another wife. Edith would be safe, and they would all be happy. 

* * *

Thomas had been working for a few hours, pausing only once to search for his blanket when he got cold. He thought he had finally determined the part that would be necessary for his machine, but unfortunately it would need to be custom-made. He was in the midst of drawing a diagram when he felt his blanket slip from his shoulders; glancing down, he saw the little dog. He heard a giggle, and realized Edith had been standing at the doorway. 

He reached down and scratched the dog’s ears. 

“I don’t think he likes your blanket as much as I do,” Edith said as she walked towards him. 

“Do you like my blanket?” he asked, smiling at her. He often found himself smiling at her, even when he had no reason to do so.

“As a matter of fact, I think it’s adorable,” she answered, leaning over to kiss him very gently. He kissed her back. He was certain he was failing to stop his smile, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was smiling down at him. 

She picked up the diagram he had been working on, “Have you made progress with your machine?”

“I have. That’s a diagram of the piece that I think will make all the difference. It’s going to have to be custom-made, so once I send off for it it will take a few weeks, but I have every hope that it will be here in plenty of time to see the machine running before winter. And then in the spring we’ll be able to start running it immediately, at the first sign of good weather.” 

“My dear, clever husband. I knew you would figure it out,” she said and replaced the drawing on the desk, “As much as I love hearing about your work, I was hoping to talk to you about something else.” 

Thomas had been dreading this. He knew she would want to talk about the morning, and he was beyond exasperated at making excuses for Lucille. 

“You want to talk about this morning,” he said.

“I do,” she answered. “I don’t understand. Is Lucille upset? Was she eavesdropping? Spying? It’s not normal, Thomas.” 

“I know it isn’t. But you have to understand Lucille is very protective. We were all each other had as children, and she’s not used to sharing the house with another woman. It’s difficult for her. I’m very sorry darling, but you’ll have to be patient with her. Eventually she’ll come around.” 

Edith frowned, and Thomas knew she wasn’t happy with his explanations. And he could tell, clever thing that she was, that she wasn’t going to leave the subject alone forever. 

“Darling, please. Try to understand,” he reached for her hand, “I love you, Edith.” 

She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand, “I know. I love you too, Thomas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you who read, commented, and left kudos on the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this second chapter also. (And I promise we'll be getting somewhere with the plot soon!)


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, they settled into a more regular routine, and Edith became more adjusted to living in such a remote area. Thomas gave up on his attempts to make an escape before Edith awoke, choosing to remain in bed. Edith was more than content to wake up in his arms each morning, and Thomas loved her more each morning when she woke and smiled up at him. 

They would pass a short time in bed each morning, talking about their plans for the day, Edith’s writings, or Thomas’ worries for his machine. They never mentioned Lucille. 

Interspersed amongst their talking, there would be kisses and gentle touches. They both seemed to be aware of a boundary though, a line that must not be crossed. Edith wasn’t sure why, but she could feel a tension in Thomas that she thought had little to do with her. He would frequently glance at the door after a kiss, as if he was afraid it would suddenly slam open and reveal them to the world. She had mentioned Lucille once, thinking to reassure him that Lucille would come around, and surely wouldn’t begrudge them too much for behaving as normal between a husband and wife. The word “Lucille” had barely passed Edith’s lips however when Thomas cut her off with a kiss, and said harshly, “That name is not to be mentioned in this room.” 

Eventually each morning Thomas would leave her. Occasionally there would be a tea tray from Lucille sitting just outside the door, her calling card reminding them that she had been there. It always put Thomas in a bad mood to see it; he would bring set it on Edith’s bedside table and leave immediately. Most days, Thomas was careful to leave early enough that there was no tea tray waiting. On these days he would go himself to make a tea tray for Edith. He’d bring it back with a smile, ridiculously proud of himself for making her breakfast, and set it on the bed beside her. On these occasions, he would join her for a cup of tea and some toast, and she would tease him about the crumbs he was getting all over their bed. 

The rest of their mornings were generally spent in opposite areas of the house. Edith would work on her writings in the library, and Thomas would be in his workshop constantly worrying about the measurements for the piece for his machine, calculating and recalculating to assure himself he had done it correctly the first time. He had little else to do while they waited for the piece to arrive. 

They would both emerge for lunch, usually to find Lucille waiting for them with a grim look on her face. Edith had no idea where Lucille was for most of the day; she passed quite a bit of time at the piano but otherwise was almost impossible to find. Lucille always prepared lunch, however, and they always took it together. It was a silent, miserable time. The dining table was too large for the three of them, and they sat huddled at one end, with Lucille at the head, Thomas to her right, and Edith to her left. They almost never spoke, although Lucille always seemed to be trying to communicate her displeasure in some way. She insisted on serving Edith, as if she was a child incapable of doing it herself. Edith always felt a bit ill after lunch.

After lunch, Lucille would follow Thomas up the stairs, and Edith would be left to amuse herself. She frequently went on walks with her little dog at this time; the few times she remained in the house she could hear raised voices or odd noises coming from the attic. She suspected the siblings were arguing and unaware of how their voices carried. 

If all was quiet when she returned from her walk, Edith would go up to Thomas’ workshop and he would show her more of the things he had made. Eventually it would be time for dinner, and it would be the same sort of dismal affair as lunch. 

After dinner there would be some semblance of normalcy. Lucille would play the piano for them, or Edith and Thomas would discuss her writings. Usually Edith would be the first to retire, and Lucille and Thomas would remain downstairs talking late into the night. 

The nights were when Edith felt the most out of place. Regardless of how well the day had gone, or how happy she was, she always felt a shiver of fear as she got ready for bed. Some nights passed without incident, but others did not. Maybe once or twice a week, Edith would awaken in terror. There seemed to be no pattern to it, but Thomas was never there. The house appeared as if it was completely deserted, with neither Thomas nor Lucille to be found, but Edith knew she wasn’t alone. She had had this same feeling as a child, when the ghost of her mother came to her. 

Except these ghosts were less willing to simply give her information; she felt as if they wanted her to discover it for herself. She wished she could be a child again and hide under her covers from everything that wished her harm. 

After one terrifying night, Edith attempted to explain what she had experienced to Thomas; he was sympathetic, but she could tell he would rather not have talked about it. His reluctance only made Edith feel more as if there was some secret to the house. It was full of oddities, and she thought surely they must hide answers somewhere. She suspected she would find most of the answers hidden behind the many locked doors, if only she could get the keys from Lucille. She couldn’t help but feel as if Lucille was the one guarding the secrets. Edith didn’t want to give up on Lucille, but she couldn’t help but feel as if Lucille had some sort of power over the house and it’s inhabitants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short update! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated, I had a busy weekend with Halloween and then I got engaged two days ago! 
> 
> I'm nearly done setting up the background before I can move into my main plot. I promise another update before the weekend! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving all the wonderful comments! I read them all.


	4. Chapter 4

Edith awoke as she had on other nights. She was beginning to become used to the sensation and although she sensed she wasn’t alone, she didn’t immediately feel terror. There was a noise in the hallway, as if someone was standing just on the other side of the door. 

“Thomas? Is that you?” she called, but there was no answer except the door swinging open just slightly. Edith stepped closer cautiously, but the little dog took the open door as an invitation to go dashing out into the hallway. Edith cursed and went after him.

When she stepped out into the hall, he was nowhere to be seen. She reached the cross of the hallway and looked in both directions. She thought she saw a movement at the end of the hall to her right, so she turned in that direction. She was about halfway down the hall when she heard a noise behind one of the closed doors. 

“How did you get in there, silly doggy?” she asked, and went to open the door. She had it open just a few inches when the dog barked to her left. She turned to look at him and the door slammed shut. She immediately yanked the door open again, fed up with the secrets of this house and being afraid. But there was nothing, just a dusty closet. Inside she found some old recordings but left them, as she had no way to listen to them. She shut the door and bent to pick up doggy when she heard a noise. Looking up, she realized there was a shadow coming rapidly towards her from the end of the hall. It quickly materialized; Edith grabbed her dog and ran blindly. Without thinking, she ran into the elevator and slammed the lever as far as she could. The elevator sank into the basement.

She stepped out; surely it shouldn’t be as easy as that to get away from a phantom. She was surprised to see a pile of seemingly random belongings piled against the wall along with a travel trunk marked E.S. At first glance, she thought it was hers but no, hers was a different style. She couldn’t resist the urge to investigate, and attempted to open the lock. It wouldn’t budge but she noticed that it was marked “Enola”, perhaps an ancestor of Thomas and Lucille? She realized she knew very little of their family history; maybe Enola was a cousin, or an aunt. 

The mystery of the trunk was enough to distract Edith from the phantom and she began to think maybe she had made it up. It was dark and shadowy after all, and she was already a bit frightened. She listened but all seemed quiet in the house, so she chose to return to her room.

When she entered, she was surprised to see Thomas sitting in the chair, staring into the barely illuminated embers of the fire. 

“You weren’t in bed,” he said without looking up. 

“Something disturbed me,” she answered, “I heard a noise and I went to see the cause of it.” 

He didn’t answer, though his slight sigh told her that he had heard. The look on his face was one Edith hadn’t seen before, as though he was under a great weight. 

“Thomas?” she asked, “Are you alright?” He didn’t immediately answer so she went to him, sitting on the floor beside his chair and resting her head against his knee. He immediately placed his hand on the top of her head, absent-mindedly playing with her curls. 

“Are you worried about the machine?” she asked, “Because you shouldn’t be. I have faith in you, and in your ability to make it work.” 

“Edith, you’ve married a failure,” he answered. 

She stood up and faced him. “Do not say that,” she said forcefully, “I won’t allow you to think it, let alone say it. I wouldn’t have married you if I hadn’t believed in you.”   
“I don’t mean the machine,” he said, with more exhaustion in his voice than she had ever heard. 

“Whatever do you mean then?” she demanded. Again, he didn’t answer; he just continued to stare towards the dying embers. They cast very little light into the room, causing odd shadows and emphasizing the despair on his face.

They were both silent for a few moments, simply staring at each other. Thomas reached his hand out to her; she took it and he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her shoulder. She held him close, and after a few moments he seemed to relax. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry I’ve brought you to this house. I’m sorry we can’t just leave and go anywhere. I’m sorry I can’t protect you.” 

Edith wasn’t sure she’d heard this last bit correctly. “Protect me?” she questioned. 

Thomas pulled back, looking a bit shocked, “I just meant generally,” he said, “from this house,” he continued, “from everything that would do you harm.” 

Edith wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was in such an odd mood that it didn’t seem the best time to question him. She chose to kiss him instead, “I trust you,” she whispered against his lips. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, leading her to their bed where he wrapped himself around her and fell asleep almost immediately. Edith was awake quite a bit longer. She couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost, the recordings, the mysterious Enola, and most of all of Thomas. Where had he been when she had awoken the first time and why was he in such a mood in the middle of the night? 

The next morning Edith was disappointed to wake up to find that Thomas had already gone. She sighed. She had hoped he would be in a better mood this morning and they could discuss what had put him in his dark mood the night before, but he was gone and she felt like their relationship had taken several steps backwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I had more to write but this seemed like the natural stopping point. Possibly another update to come tomorrow, or over the weekend. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and the comments!


End file.
